Come Back, Little Boy.
by Noche Buena
Summary: Fixed some things! A tag to "Run Away, Little Boy." Tristan/Rory mainly, a tiny bit of Luke/Lorelai.


Author: Nellie  
Email: pyromaniac917@yahoo.com  
Website(s): http://www.nightmeadow.com  
my tristan/rory site, http://www.nightmeadow.com/miracles  
Summary: Baaaaad foofy fic set as a longer tag to "Run Away, Little Boy." Well, it's bad IMHO, because the characters... Are not really in character. Which is s'posed to be the point of fics, but, hey. *shrugs* Oh well!  
Distribution: Hell, I'd be so flattered. But tell me, so I can be all ecstatic.  
Disclaimer: Tristan is so-oooooo-oooo not mine. If he were, well, let's just say I'd never have time for fanfics with him around.  
Author's notes: Read with caution. It's not so good. It's like one of my other Tristan/Rory fics... Ughhhh. The other ones are pretty bad, too.  
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"Ror?"   
  
Lorelai Gilmore plopped down on the pink-flowered couch next to her daughter, looking extremely bored and agitated at the world.  
  
"Mmmhmm?" answered Rory nonchalantly, pouring herself into her trigonometry notebook with the green holographic cover, glancing quizzically at the offensive question nine. She scratched her head absently and bit on the tip of her pencil.  
  
Her mother stared obnoxiously at her and smiled with a manic expression on her face. She held this pose for 30 seconds before she let go of it and relaxed against the cushy back of the couch. "You're no fun tonight," said Lorelai glumly, pouting a little. "I might even have to go to Luke's and have him entertain me, and that's *the* lowest rung of the ladder."  
  
"Mmmhmm," agreed Rory.  
  
Lorelai furrowed her eyebrows at her youngest - and only daughter. "You do realize I just declared the lowest-rung-of-the-ladder, right? The Luke-entertain-me-attention-getter?"  
  
"Mmmhmm. Have a nice time."  
  
Lorelai grabbed the flashy notebook and bopped Rory on the head with it. "What, is trig so important that you have to ignore the one who gave life to you? The one who gave you the possibility to do this crap? The one," she gasped, "Who taught you what boys were for?"  
  
"Being our ever-drooly-dumb-love-slaves?" Rory asked, smiling irritatedly as she grabbed her notebook back.  
  
"No, that's just Dean, darling daughter of mine. He peshial. Guess again!"  
  
"To do our trigonometry homework for us?"  
  
Lorelai beamed. "Brilliant, genius girl! So how about we go over to Luke's and-"  
  
Rory looked up, exasperated. "If you want to go to Luke's, go to Luke's! But we were just there for dinner and I still have to do the homework even though we had the play tonight and you know he can't do trig!"  
  
Her mother pursed her lips and shook her head. "Shakespeare makes you *cranky*. Sheesh. No more Willy for you! And how do you know Luke can't do math? Sure, most of the time he looks like a slightly dazed monkey on crack, but really, he's just an incredibly brainy guy!" Lorelai assured Rory, tilting her head and making her brilliant blue eyes look bigger. "Please? Please? It's not fun having coffee without you. What if Dean were here? Would you say yes to him and not your own mummy?"  
  
Lorelai dropped her voice to a Dean-like quality and wrinkled her forehead.  
  
"Worywy? Would you like to go in my buggy and go chug some coffee at Luke's place? Huh, Worywy? Woudja? Woudja wike to-"  
  
Rory had clamped her hand over Lorelai's mouth and shook her head.  
  
"Mom, I seriously need to study. Dean couldn't change that. I *like* studying."  
  
Lorelai sighed. "I seriously need some coffee after that neandrathalic Romeo and Juliet play! And not to mention that I can't believe you're my daughter... Studying, ri-iiight. Coffee, go-oood."  
  
"And we're back to Shakespeare and trig. And coffee."  
  
Rory had since forgotten to make more notes with her swirly blue pen in her notebook, and Lorelai took advantage of the situation. She grabbed her notebook, pulled Rory up, and soundly declared, "Ror, you can study at Luke's. *Need* some coffee badly and- well, you're my daughter and I say you're coming with me."  
  
"You'll have to drag me through the door," Rory warned, grinning slightly and putting the blue pen down.  
  
_____________________________  
  
Five minutes later, the mother and daughter duo were seated at the shiny red table at Luke's place.   
  
"What're you having?" they asked each other at the same time.  
  
"No, what are *you* having?" asked Rory insistently, smiling.  
  
"What are *you* having?" shot Lorelai back conspiratiorially.  
  
"I asked you first!"  
  
"Na-uhn! It's a total misconception that teenagers are faster than full-grown adults. Not true. I'm faster."  
  
"You aren't!"  
  
Suddenly, the golden bell on the door rattled and magically, Luke shot out of the kitchens- and saw Rory and Lorelai- they both knew how to get into the store without the stupid bell rattling. All you had to do was slowwwllly open it and clamp the bell before the spring could release it.  
  
Luke looked at the two dubiously.  
  
"Again? But you-"  
  
"Hey!" said Lorelai defiantly. "We're paying some good money for some damn coffee and we've been here for *hours*, mister!"  
  
Luke looked up to see who hand jangled the ringythingy and noticed a tousled head peek through the doorway. The boy looked up, glanced at Luke and pointed at the sign. "It said it was closed, but I happen to be in need of a good wr-"  
  
"Tristan!" exclaimed Rory, standing up hurriedly and knocking over the chair. She blushed furiously and her mother looked at her questioningly as Rory picked up the chair.  
  
"What are you doing here?" they asked each other at the same time.  
  
"Whoah," said Lorelai. "Freaky twin thing going on tonight? Did we all eat some ESP cheese at the same time or-" she stopped, noticing that she was making absolutely *no* sense.  
  
"What?" asked Tristan, a little confused. He shook his head, looking around the "restaurant." "Oh. I thought this was a-"  
  
"Hardware store?" finished Luke, looking amused at the handsome boy. "You from Hartford? We get a lot of people from there, looking for wrenches. This is a restaurant, kid. And we are," he said, pointing at the very same sign, "closed."  
  
Luke looked sort of disgruntled that another boy was after Rory. First Dean, now this punk? Man, it was some job picking all the leeches off Rory.  
  
Tristan protested. "But then what's Rory doing here? And Rory's-" he did a quick glance up Lorelai's sitting form, "Uh- sister?"  
  
"Nice try. Mother."  
  
Tristan grinned, and walked over to go shake her hand. "You've got a nice daughter, Mrs. Gilmore."  
  
Rory coughed, "Ms."  
  
Lorelai waved her hand about in the air. "Potato, potahto. Same thing."  
  
"You'd think it, wouldn't you?" Luke snarked as he started putting some coffee on a heater from behind the counter.  
  
"Hey! That's completely racist, you know. Just because men are completely 'uni-titled' doesn't mean they have the right to go off and-" Lorelai shot back, walking over closer to the mecca that was the brewing coffee pot- and to the constant fact that she was completely in denial to the fact that she was really, really, *really* attracted to the man who made the loveliness.  
  
Meanwhile, Rory had crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to Tristan hesitantly. "I thought you were off to killing school."  
  
Tristan shrugged, looking down at Rory with a soft sort of awareness in his eyes. She missed it. "I am," he said lightly. "I needed a wrench."  
  
"If wrench was escape plan?"  
  
He grimaced. "Um..."  
  
Her eyes searched him. "Why are you here?" she demanded. "It's not like you ruined the play enough and decided to screw up your life because-"  
  
"Hey!" he denied, shaking his head. "It wasn't- it was just..."  
  
"A phase?" she looked at him, disappointment not concealed in her eyes. "Come *on.* Why the heck would you do that? Don't you have enough money already?"  
  
"You wouldn't really get it, Ror."  
  
For some reason, her spine tingled just hearing him say her name like that. It was so- ugh- she couldn't describe it. Irritating? No. She'd felt that so many times before with him.   
  
"Why? I get a lot of things."  
  
He shook his head. "You miss a lot of things, too, you know."  
  
"Like what? Paris told me that you've been getting in trouble a lot. I *had* missed that, but mostly because I didn't really care until it-"  
  
"Involved you?" he finished for her. "You and your *grades*?"  
  
Rory pursed her lips angrily, repeating her question and avoiding his.  
  
"Why- are- you- here?"  
  
Tristan looked upwards, then down at her again. "I can't talk to you about this with your mom in here."  
  
"Fine, we can go outside."  
  
"Hey Mom?" Rory asked her mother, who was sitting at the counter and trading verbal spars with Luke, who looked rather like he was enjoying it. "I'm going to go walk outside with Tristan for a second, okay?"  
  
Lorelai turned around and raised her eyebrows rather obviously. "Mm-*hmm.* That's fine. Come back for coffee. And lots of fun with trig."  
  
"I'm actually kind of good at trig," confessed Luke, who busied himself with a bunch of stale muffins underneath a presenting glass.  
  
Lorelai whirled around in her chair and gaped at Luke.  
  
"What?" he said rather bashfully.  
  
Lorelai just grinned at him. "Star Trek *and* trig. Who would've known?"  
  
_______  
  
Rory and Tristan strolled outside in the nighttime of Stars Hollow, pulling their coats around them as a chilly burst of wind swept past them. They walked distantly apart, every once in a while glancing at each other, taking furtive peeks.  
  
"So," said Rory, breaking the silence. "Why are you here?"  
  
Tristan let out a breath of air, watching the smokey particles waft up to the treetops as they walked by several Victorian homes. "I can't go to military school."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I'm a wimp and I hate getting up at 4 in the morning."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So you don't care anymore that I'm going? Wasn't it three hours ago that you were asking me if there was anything I could do to get out of it?"  
  
She shrugged delicately. "It was just for the project, Tristan. It's not that I don't care what happens to you..."  
  
"It's just that you don't care that I care?" he said bitterly.  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked angrily, keeping her voice low. "You're always trying to make me angry and pissed off at you. Why do you do that? At military school, they won't let you do that."  
  
"I don't know. And I'm not going to military school."  
  
"You do know. And where else are you going to go, Tristan? You think your dad isn't going to have you tracked down by your credit card? Don't you think he'll do something about it?"  
  
"That's just the thing, Rory. He doesn't care enough about me, either. World is full of people like that. People who don't really care."  
  
"Oh, so now you're going to pull a 'poor-little-rich-boy' routine."  
  
"You don't have to be so uptight all the time around people."  
  
"I'm not. I'm just around you. That's why I don't like being around you, because you make me act like this."  
  
"You don't like being around me?"  
  
Tristan's ego had just dropped severely and his heart was hammering away like a jackhammer on a gong. He was silent after that.  
  
"Tristan-" Rory stopped walking, her big blue eyes staring up into his eyes, uncertainty brimming in them. "I'm obviously not helping you right now, okay? Why don't you just go home, and try and work things out?" The moonlight shadowed over Tristan's face, hiding half of it.  
  
"I've tried that. I don't know *where* to go so I came here. I can't even believe I got out, even. I just don't get why-" his shoulders sagged and Rory could finally see his face.  
  
She was shocked to see that he wasn't making eye contact with her. It was something that small that finally caught her eye. The truth of the matter was that he never lost eye contact with people when he talked to them- it was something she had noticed before. He was just staring down at his feet. Rory felt a little winded at the one sight of his distress- it was so unlike Tristan that it made her wonder a little.  
  
"Tristan-" Rory started.  
  
"Don't say anything, Rory. Please don't," he said, his voice low and gravelly. He was obviously uncomfortable with her.  
  
Tristan walked away, his dropped stature obvious. His feet felt like lead and his mind was spinning with confusion and sadness. It was true, then- she didn't even care about him. Was she really that mad with him? Nobody he knew could ever hold such a grudge with him. He was fricken *Tristan DuGrey*, for pete's sakes.  
  
  
"Tristan," Rory breathed out, an insistent and painful swelling in her chest to see Tristan walking away from him. He was going to leave and go to South Carolina. Suddenly, the impact of everything fell down on her. She-- couldn't let him leave. Why? Oh, God. Breathing became painful and she couldn't take it anymore.  
  
Rory ran up a few paces, before grabbing Tristan's arm.  
  
"You can't leave," she looked desperately into his face. "Please don't."  
  
From the shocked expression on his face, her spirits dropped even lower.  
  
"I mean, you can go... If you want to," she mumbled.  
  
Suddenly, a warm hand was caressing her face and she was closer to Tristan than she ever had been before. Literally. She felt her knees threatening to give way and knowing that only the trees were watching, she breathed out,  
  
"My boyfriend's not watching me now."  
  
Rory couldn't *believe* she was saying that. The hell? Oh, man. She was in so much trouble now.  
  
"He isn't," Tristan agreed as his other hand chose to rub the small of her back, his ice-blue eyes darkened and his lips beckoning her to slam herself against him and kiss him until they were both so dizzy one of them would have to push the other against the wall and have their way with each other.   
  
He took a small step closer, and their eyes were completely locked on each other now. Her entire body was aflame, her skin flushing and burning and she felt like she was being baked alive. And it was so *good* to hear him take a couple shallow breaths and watch his dark coat heave up slightly. If he leaned in *that* much closer, their lips would fuse together and she wouldn't be able to stop it because it was Tristan.  
  
Rory let out a noise of dismay and abruptly put her small hand on his firm chest and pushed him away from her, just now realizing what the hell she was doing. She *couldn't* kiss Tristan! He was Tristan! The boy who teased her and prodded her and messed with her and had- had kissed her.  
  
"Rory!" Tristan called out to her as she started running away from him- her thoughts in a completely confusing whirl of emotions, understanding that she was about to kiss him. And that the very remembrance of his soft hand brushing against her cheek and his blue eyes boring into her and knowing exactly what she was thinking- was driving her up the wall and away from Tristan.  
  
He caught up to her, and grabbed her hand.  
  
She gasped.  
  
"Why-wh-" Tristan was at a loss for words and his breath was coming short. He took one look at her frightened face, and was ironically empowered with the words he needed to say.  
  
"So the first time's a mistake, huh? Would the second time make it real for you, Rory?" he coughed out. "Would you just *understand* something for just one second?"  
  
Rory nodded slowly, avoiding his intimidating glance down at her.  
  
"Don't- don't play with me like that. Don't kiss me and say it was nothing. Don't look at me with your blue eyes and say something completely brilliant and out of the blue that makes me want to melt right in front of you. Don't- *do* -that-, Rory. Don't you have *any* idea what you've done to me? You've turned me into a completely sappy idiotic- idiot, you know. Every time I even look at you, music swells in my chest, and all that crap that I try to push farther back in my mind. You *do* that to me, Rory, not those blonde bimbos at school. The only reason I ever teased you so much was because you were the only girl who wouldn't ever fall for me. You're-" he blustered, stopping abruptly with never-blinking eyes.  
  
Rory still didn't look up, but he could tell she was very surprised and that her lovely pink cheeks were blushing even further.  
  
"Never mind. Don't try and stop me this time, okay?" he finished quickly, looking very embarrassed. "Any other things you'd like to rip my heart apart with? No? Then, okay, I'm leaving."  
  
"You're-" Rory fumbled with the words angrily, "You're so- ugh! Why do YOU do that to me? You're not the only one with problems, you know! Just go!"  
  
"Fine!" he yelled. "See if I care!"  
  
"Well, I don't!"  
  
"Fine!"  
  
"Leave already!"  
  
"Can't!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
Their argument grew heated until they both realized their bodies were so close that they were almost pressing flush against each other. They broke away hastily, Rory running a hand through her hair and Tristan biting his lip and crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
They were so close to kissing. Again.   
  
  
"Don't have a ride back," he gritted.  
  
"Why not? Lost your porsche at the country club?"  
  
"No, my bastard of a father took it away from me and had the mechanic fix it so it wouldn't start."  
  
"You couldn't fix it back yourself?" she grumbled, her eyebrows furred in frustration. Tristan was so not staying overnight at her house.  
  
"He's not that stupid. He took away the keys and locked it in his safe."  
  
"I would've thought you'd have some experience in safes."  
  
"Oh, I do," his eyes blazed. "You of all people know that. But, again, he's not that stupid. There's a damn guard guarding the thing and he happens to not sleep during the night, incredible as it may be. It was hell getting out," he remarked, still cross at her.  
  
"Oh, you're just brilliant tonight, you know that? Fine. I can give you a ride back. Just as long as you go."  
  
"Great. The girl I-" he stopped short, and recovered from what he was about to say, and swallowed it down, "is driving me back to the portal to hell. Nifty, I say. Bring it on."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Rory was still angry at him, so she wasn't really listening to a word he was saying as much as she was staring at his rosy cheeks nipped by the wind, and his hair that looked so soft. She shook her head, cleansing the thoughts from her head.   
  
"Okay," she said softly, but still with an edge of wariness in her voice. "Follow me."  
  
A couple minutes later, as the town was so small, the two had arrived back at Luke's where Lorelai was giggling uncontrollably as Luke had her pinned against one of the walls, tickling her sides.  
  
"Mom?" Rory asked incredulously. "You've got a Luke on you!"  
  
Lorelai gasped and broke away from Luke, slapping him defiantly on the capped head.   
  
"You are a *very* naughty man. Watch yourself next time," she coughed nervously, grinning at the two. "So did you two find something nice to talk about or where you all grrrr and arggghh?"  
  
"Why would we be all 'grr and arggh', Ms. Gilmore? Rory and I are just the bestest of friends," he said not-so-sincerely, throwing a toned arm around Rory's sweater clad shoulders. Rory pushed his arm off delicately. "Oh, yeah, we're *buddies.*"  
  
"Actually, I have to drive Tristan back to Hartford because he took the bus."  
  
Lorelai shook her head. "Not smart."  
  
"So- could I borrow the Jeep?"  
  
"Sure, go ahead. Knock yourself out and bring the cell phone, too."  
  
"Thanks, Ms. Gilmore," Tristan said, not sounding happy at all that Rory's mom had let her take the Jeep. It sounded dumb, but he had this really stupid fantasy in his head that he wouldn't be able to get back to Hartford and he'd have to stay at Rory's house on the couch and he'd be fast asleep. Rory'd creep in the living room, wearing a strappy tank top with flannel cloud pajama bottoms and a blanket wrapped around her smooth shoulders. She'd see him sleeping, and sit down quietly on the coffee table and softly pull the blankets covering him around his shoulders. He wake up gently. She wouldn't have notice. He'd put his hand over her hand, and pull her down on top of him and there would be this incredible moment before the inevitable happened where he'd be burning and sparks would shoot up his body and all he could feel was her lovely self. And then he'd kiss her, her and her quirky and witty attitude and every ounce of passion she contained would go into that kiss; would fuel it to the point that they'd have to break away gasping and she'd leave, but with a smile on her face.  
  
But it was stupid to think like that. And that wasn't ever going to happen. Not with Rory, at least.  
  
"Come on," Rory sighed. "Hartford's a half hour away and I still have to finish the trig homework we got today."  
  
Tristan's thoughts were broken. He wouldn't have to do the trig, but he'd done it anyway, just because he was in his room and he had nothing better to do since he wasn't allowed to leave the house. It would've been too risky in the daytime.  
  
"Drive safely," Luke called out to the two leaving teenagers, then he turned his attention to Lorelai and instantly raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Okay, what's wrong with Rory? She seems so-?"  
  
Lorelaid nodded, quirking her lips upwards a bit. "Tense? Yeah, she doesn't like Tristan."  
  
Luke shrugged. "Looks like he likes her, though."  
  
"Are you crazy? Rory's told me what he's like. He's the kind of guy you *hate*, Duke."  
  
"S'Luke, not *Duke*..."  
  
"You're avoiding the question."  
  
Luke shrugged again, and started wiping off one of the red tables with a wet cloth, rubbing vigorously at a particularly offensive stain. "I'm not. I'm just saying, guys have their ways."  
  
"What ways? Tell me. I'm interested in what you have to say, for once, and you won't tell me. It's irritating, Luke. Not very becoming. Not at all. None. Nada, nothing."  
  
"Oh, that's the way to get someone to tell you something. Besides, it's not important."  
  
Lorelai looked like she was about to burst. "Oh, come on! It is important and now you won't even tell me? What is it- his ways are sexual ways? Because she can handle those. I've seen her in action. Ka-plooey, those boys go down like they're homos in a male str-"  
  
The restaurant owner cut her off before she could say anything more. "Could it be more in front of your eyes?" he said, not looking into Lorelai's eyes. "He's in love with her. I've seen it before, many leagues ago in this place they call a town. The stupid goofy smile and the way he kept on looking at her- wasn't dirty. Not everybody's out to get Rory."  
  
He was being incredibly hypocritical and he knew it, but he had to get his poing across somehow.  
  
"Hey!" Lorelai put up her hands. "No need to get so defensive about it."  
  
But then her eyes became interested. "So he's in love with her, huh? No *wonder* she hates him."  
  
"The smart ones never get it, even if it's right smack dab in front of you-them," he caught himself. Luke looked up into her eyes briefly before resuming back to wiping off the backs of the worn chairs. "If she's smart, she has no idea that he loves her."  
  
___________  
  
"So," said Tristan, looking very much like he wanted to run away again. It was unbelievable that he was even going back willingly. "Nice car."  
  
"Thank you," Rory said, pushing the "unlock" button on the keys of the pee-yellow Jeep, waiting for the locks to "click" in the Gilmore's dark gravel driveway, only illuminated by their porch lights. She shivered as she climbed in and stuck the keys in the ignition. Tristan jumped in and put on his seatbelt, wrapping his arms around himself.  
  
"Is it always so cold here?" he said, trying to make conversation in the uncomfortable silence.  
  
She shrugged. "It's the same temperature as it is in Hartford, I'm guessing. So where do you live again?"  
  
"147 Blanchard Street. It's the white house with the pansies in the garden."  
  
"You have pansies in winter?"  
  
"Yeah. They're bingo pansies. They thrive on coldness. Kind of like you, sometimes." By the look in her eyes as she pressed on the gas and backed out of the driveway, he changed the subject. He knew she wasn't like that.   
  
"Fine. Forget I asked," she sighed, shaking her head, which was already dizzy from the fact that she had just registered ten minutes ago that Tristan- oh, God, Tristan- *liked* her. It sounded a lot more than that, too. It was, quite frankly, a little sickening. Or something was in her stomach, making her feel quite nauseated. "Oh, god, I'm using 'quite' in a sentence. Twice," she mused angrily in her mind.  
  
"Not to mention you're handing me over to the Devil...." Tristan looked innocently out the window, watching the dirty snow fly by on the sides of the streets. "Go left here," he told her as a left turn sign came into view.  
  
"Come on, your dad would do what any dad would do. Maybe he was just having a bad day," she suggested.  
  
"Oh hoho. No." Tristan nodded, certain of himself. "Every day is a bad day for my dad. Stocks are down one point and he'll go hit golf balls at our windows."  
  
"Ah. I've played golf before, but I mostly only hit other people. Not on purpose, but..."  
  
"Oh!" Rory stopped sniping at Tristan, trying not to dwell too much on his dad. Didn't seem like a fun guy. Well, maybe if fun was completely psychopathic, then, yes. She had also stopped because it had started to snow. Lovely, delightful, effulgent snow. Rory, being a human thesaurus, probably could've gone on longer in her wordy thoughts, but Tristan broke in her mental ramblings, grinning widely.  
  
"Hey! It's snowing! You know, I'm gonna miss the stuff," he looked out the car windows eagerly like a little boy, resting his arm on the grey armrest.   
  
Rory had to smile. It was like puppies in a pet store window- too cute to ignore.  
  
"Made you smile," said Tristan, looking with a sideways glance at her, looking at her shaking her head.   
  
"I smile," Rory insisted.  
  
"Not enough," Tristan said. "You're kind of cute when you smile."  
  
"I think maybe you should smile more and talk less, Tristan," and she gave herself a secret inward grin.   
  
"What, my sexy libido too much for you? Smile too charming? Knew you couldn't handle it," he teased.  
  
"I can handle a lot more than you'd think," Rory gave an uncharacteristic smirk his way, watching his mouth drop and his eyes widen. "So, we've got a naughty private school girl on our hands, don't we?" he asked incredulously, forgetting the fact that if his father found out he had left the house, he'd be even in more trouble and changing his mind would not be an option.  
  
"Soon to be on yours, you sexy devil, you," she rolled her eyes.  
  
"I'll be keeping that in mind."  
  
"Unless your hands are already full of pure blue-blood silicone, of course," she added.  
  
"Mmm. They're not silicone," he chuckled.  
  
"Ugh, Tristan! Too much information!" she said, stopping at the upcoming red light, watching a couple holding hands, walking across the pedestrian walk together, both looking very content. If Dean could only be like this all the time- it seemed he was always near her, watching her- not her, exactly, but the people she knew. It was- it was a little creepy.  
  
Tristan had noticed her staring at them wistfully. "Something wrong?" he asked as she pushed on the gas again, driving past a 7-Eleven and a Dairy Queen, packed with people.   
  
"It's really none of your business," she said, suddenly cold again. He knew he had pushed a putton somewhere in her, he just *knew* it.  
  
And things were going to get all emotionaley again. Urgh.   
  
But then, Rory stopped at the next stop sign waiting for the other cars to get their turn in the intersection. "Hey, Rory?"  
  
"Yeah," she asked nonchantly, not even bothering to uplift her voice at the end of the word.  
  
"Can we stop at that park up there?" he pointed at a grassy area near a couple of suburban houses, encircled by a log fence painted in some dark color. A colorful playground in the center, the snow pouring over it. It was maybe only 18 yards away at the most, and it would be at least 20 seconds before they got to go.  
  
"Why?" she asked. "Going to escape? Tristan, you can live off of girls, but you definitely can't live off the "land"."   
  
"No, it's not that. I kind of want to," he paused, smiling, "play in the snow."  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
"I do! Come on! Please, Rory? This might be my last chance *ever* to play in the snow," he said plaintively, pouting his lips irristably.  
  
"Fine, just don't blame me if your dad sends you to prison," she said, unbelieving that she was taking Tristan DuGrey to a park so he could go and play in the snow. And that she had been- ugh, *charmed* by his sinister wiles. This was sickening. Her mom would puke. Luke would puke. And then she'd start rhyming and gah, this was irritating.  
  
"He already is," Tristan replied. "Except this prison has less convicts and more juvenile deliquents."  
  
Rory shook her head, turning the steering wheel just so, so she could pull into one of the three parking spaces in front of the park. "You're hardly a juvenile deliquent, Tristan. You're a 'light' juvenile delinquent. One could say, only one calorie. Quasi-delinquent."  
  
"Oho, so I'm not 'bad' enough for you?" he asked, pulling the car door open and grinning as the snow fell onto his shoulders and on his hair, and taking in a deep breath. He grinned giddily at Rory, who was coming around the car in the dim glow of the streetlights as an occasional car passed by on the sleepy streets.  
  
"Oh, you're too bad for me," she replied simply, pulling her black gloves on, "and besides, I already know what you're really like."  
  
"A country farm boy with a heart as big as his tractor?" he grinned. "Because I could be that guy. Rugged, burly, hung like a-"  
  
"Whoahoah! And we are stopping the farm boy talk right now," she puffed, her warm breath forming wispy clouds about her in the 8:00 PM night. She rubbed her arms against her middle, and then looked at Tristan. "So, are you going to play, or what? I don't have all night. I have- important things to do."  
  
"So, are you going to?"   
  
"What?"  
  
"Play?" he gestured at the swingset and the falling snow, as though it were the most obvious thing in the entire world to play on.  
  
"Maybe later," she blinked, secretly wanting to go jump on the stainless steel merry-go-round and twirl and twirl forever. Those had always been her favorite thing to go on, until the one (and the only one) in Stars Hollow had broken and Luke had to take it away.  
  
"Okay," he shrugged, bounding out onto the large grassy field, laughing a little as he slid on a patch of snow and fell on his butt.  
  
Rory crossed her arms over her jacket, leaning against the Jeep. She had seriously never known anybody like Tristan. Take him out of a hostile girl-populated environment and you had an eager boy who was actually- maybe a little bit sweet. He picked himself off the ground, and ran towards the playground. Rory dusted the snow off her pony-tailed hair, and shook it off her coat. The snow was coming down in huge clumps, and everything looked- it was a totally stupid word, but magical.  
  
"Are you coming, or am I just going to push myself on these swings?"  
  
"Can you wipe your own butt?"  
  
"No, I can't," he said, sarcastic.  
  
"You were supposed to say yes!" Rory walked over to him slowly, jamming her hands into her coat, watching as Tristan attempted to fit himself onto one of the smaller swings.   
  
"Yeah, and you were supposed to come over here and play."  
  
"Lame!"  
  
"Yours is lamer!"  
  
"That's not even a word."  
  
"Lame is a politically incorrect article of speeceh, and- and- you started it."  
  
"This is stupid."  
  
"You're stupid."  
  
"Oh, that is so old."  
  
"You're old."  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
Both of them were breathless and smiling, Rory having pushed Tristan down in the mounting snow. Tristan's cheeks were a cherubic pink and his eyes were glazed in the golden streetlights illuminating the playground. Rory had her arms crossed over her chest, looking very satisfied with herself. Drops of snow fell on the mussy-haired boy, who stuck out his pink tongue and tried to catch one on his tongue.  
  
When he failed, he just grinned and looked up at Rory comtemptuously. "You know, when I was a kid, my favorite movie was 'A Charlie Brown Christmas.' I always used to think that snowflakes would actually taste like something- you know, sugar, or something white."  
  
"No kidding? That's pretty funny. I had a Lucy shirt when I was younger, and I'd wear it all the time, along with my Harvard sweatshirt. I looked like a reject from la-la land," Rory admitted.  
  
"Personally, I was a Linus fan. I always wanted to be like him when I grew up, and I thought he was so awesome," he told her. "But then I realized carrying a soft blue blanket probably wouldn't improve my chances of popularity, so I dropped that act."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with still having a baby blanket!" Rory exclaimed.  
  
"I didn't say you couldn't have one. Don't you?"  
  
"Yeah," she grinned, and he brought himself up to full height in front of her, and smiled softly.   
  
"I'm going to miss you, Miss. Lorelai Leigh Gilmore."  
  
"I'm going to-"  
  
"Cry for me every single night when I leave? Whisper my name into your pillow over and over? Eat Haagen-Dasz as nobody ever had before?" joked Tristan. Rory shook her head, her forehead wrinkling up adorably and her mouth quirking up.  
  
"Nah- I'm more of a Ben and Jerry's girl. More variety, and junk in the ice cream. But I am," she said sincerely, "Going name my first car in your name."  
  
"Why? 'Cos it'll remind you of me- riding me all night long?"  
  
"You're perverted, Tristan."  
  
"And you wouldn't have me any other way."  
  
She rolled her eyes, but Tristan could tell she was smiling. "So, I should probably drive you home now, right?"  
  
"You can drive me any way you like," he said mischieviously.  
  
"Over a cliff?"  
  
"As long as you're the one pushing me over, sure."  
  
The pair walked slowly across the soft field of snow, tired, giddy, and both of them- yes, *both*, were a little--- sad. Rory bit her lip as they reached the car, trying to think of what she was going to say to Tristan- without seeming too peppy or ecstatic about it.  
  
"My dad's going to *kill* me when he finds out I snuck out," Tristan confirmed, nodding his head. "Bludgeoned. Stoned. Tossed in the dungeons. And then sent off to military school," he slammed the car door shut as he settled himself in.  
  
"Tower of London type thing?"  
  
"I'm Marie Antoinette herself."  
  
"'Cept with less dress and more uniform."  
  
Rory dutifully started the car, pulling out of the now-white parking lot.   
  
"Maybe I'll write to you at military school," she said, trying not to sound interested or caring about the subject.  
  
"Okay," he said a little akwardly. But there was a small little bubble of hope bubbling up into his throat and his body. She wanted to write to him.  
  
"But nothing naughty," he added cautiously, grinning. "Because they'll probably read the letters first."  
  
"Yeah, you'll definitely have to worry about that, Tristan."  
  
For the rest of the drive back to Tristan's house, the two schoolmates (and dared Tristan think it: friends) traded at least two dozen insults. Tristan grinned and laughed at practically each one of Rory's simple yet witty remarks on his views- she was actually being rather cordial with him and her insults were far more friendly than spiteful.  
  
She had given him one simple smile and it was sealed for the parting boy.   
  
Tristan couldn't help but thinking extremely giddy and lovesick, for he had gotten through to Rory Gilmore.Well-- almost.  
  
______________________  
  
This *is* the end, believe it or not. Thanks LOADS to Roxy's review on the story, it helped a lot- *grins* it's true, Tristan probably wouldn't have cried. Well, maybe- wait, no.   
  
Okay.   
  
If you didn't see it before-  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
